Inevitable Fate
by Rebe1Queen
Summary: Lyrra, an apostate mage, will go to any lengths to survive, including binding her soul to that of a demon.  Written for the Dragon Age: Asunder writing contest.


**Inevitable Fate**

The flame raged all around her. The heat licked the faces of the terrified villagers as they watched in horror at the scene unfolding before them. The woman's body was contorting and twisting as she cried in rage. The darkspawn stopped their advance and kept their weapons at the ready. They could feel the magic pulsing off this woman as she transformed.

Her raven hair pulled free from its leather wrapping, whipping around her. Great curling horns erupted from her brow and quickly swept backward over her head. Her nails grew into claws, and her pale skin darkened to an almost purple color. Her clothing ripped and tore as her legs grew longer. Her feet tore through her leather boots as they elongated. The sound of screams and breaking bones filled the fiery village air. A moment longer and the transformation was complete. She stood on her toes; the arch of her foot lengthened so her heels pulled backward off the ground. A tail swished through the air behind her, and she tossed her head to shake out her long, dark hair. Her normally amber eyes were tinged with black. A snarl emerged from her lips.

She moved slowly toward the darkspawn, who were readying themselves for her attack. Igniting her newly-formed demon body, the woman plunged into the ranks of darkspawn. Unleashing her full power, she caused more damage to the already burning village. Those darkspawn that were not incinerated, she clawed and kicked until they fell dead and bloodied. The few villagers who still lingered on the edge of town turned and fled as far as they could. She could hear their terrified screams and the gurgling of the darkspawn at her feet, somewhere at the edge of her senses.

She heaved a great breath of the acrid air before she turned and ran from the village. She traveled only a short distance into the nearby forest, when she could feel the power draining from her body. She slumped against a tree, holding it for support as her body cracked and shifted back to normal. She lay there, at the base of the tree, panting. Sweat was pouring over her, and she felt the inclination to be sick. Closing her eyes to the summer sun, she lay there quietly until the world stopped spinning. Her senses felt blurred as though she'd consumed too much in the tavern, but through the haze, she started to hear the approach of armored feet.

Templars.

She forced herself to rise, her arms pushing her along as she attempted to escape, but she was too weak from the transformation. Her limbs were sluggish and numb causing her to stumble. The templars were quick to spot her through the trees, and descended upon her with a ferocity she had not yet seen. One of the three templars pinned her to the ground, while the other two bound her hands behind her. They unceremoniously hauled her to her feet, pushing her toward the edge of the forest. One of the templars walked in front of her, the other two behind. They walked in steely silence, the templars keeping her power trapped within her body. She glared at the back of the lead templar's head as the two behind kept pushing her roughly.

The small group skirted the edge of the still burning village as they made their way to the road. Cresting at a slight hill, the captured woman could see more templars standing at the ready, a group of six mages in their midst. The group of templars had been taking the mages to the Circle Tower, when the villagers had run to them for help. Hearing of a mage destroying an entire village, three of the twelve templars had peeled away from the group to hunt her down.

"Get in line with the rest of the mages." One of her captors barked, shoving her so hard she almost fell.

"My name is Lyrra. You could at least use it." She spat back at him.

"I don't care, apostate. Get in line or be sacrificed to the Maker. Choice is yours." He snarled in return. His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword on his belt, but Lyrra moved to within the confines of the templar barricade in silence.

The lead templars began to move forward, the surrounding templars pushing the mages into motion behind them. Lyrra kept quiet as she moved forward with the other captured mages. Her bare feet ached with the sting of rocks and gravel as they walked along. She kept reminding herself why she had to escape the templar's grasp, pushing all other thoughts aside. She merged her body with that of a demon for a specific purpose, and she was not about to lose sight of her goal. Her very life depended on it.

The group walked in cold silence for the better part of the afternoon, the templars keeping a brisk pace. Lyrra could occasionally hear a templar whisper to another as they walked. From what Lyrra managed to overhear, the templars were supposed to meet up with a larger group that was moving mages to the Circle Tower. Lyrra felt a rising sense of dread as the party moved forward. The other mages could feel it too; she could see it in their faces. The earth began to rumble under their feet, and the templars stopped abruptly. Unsheathing their swords, the templars stood at the ready. They were sensing something now too.

An ogre burst from the trees lining the road, a contingent of darkspawn on its heels. Two hurlock emissaries drifted out from behind the rest of the darkspawn, their arms raised. Balls of magic lit in their hands as they prepared to launch an attack on the group. Leaving the mages, the templars ran into battle. The mages were freed of the magic-blocking hold that the templars kept over them, and they began to fire their own spells into the fray. Lyrra felt her bonds suddenly loosen, and she rubbed her raw wrists. One of the other mages had released her before they began to fight the darkspawn.

This was her chance. Lyrra knew that in the fray, she'd be able to escape, but something kept her near. She forced her magical energy through her body and into her fingertips. Lyrra pushed the fireball from her hands and into a cluster of darkspawn. They collapsed into fiery ruin as she prepared to launch another. The combination of the ogre and the emissaries proved to be too much for the group to handle. The ogre ripped through the templars' armor, letting the emissaries have access to their soft flesh.

Lyrra could see this battle was not going well. She felt the familiar heat rise in her chest as she let the demon's spirit take hold again. Her body began to contort, her screams catching the attention of the surrounding darkspawn. With the transformation complete, Lyrra glided forward killing any monster in her wake. The last of her mage brethren fell onto the blood-soaked grass, and Lyrra's rage intensified. She focused her brewing rage on the emissaries hiding at the back of the remaining darkspawn. She eliminated one with ease, but the other ran into the dwindling fray, causing her to chase it. Lyrra moved considerably faster in her demon form than in her mortal form and quickly caught the emissary. She tore its head from its shoulders and cast the body aside.

The darkspawn horde had been eliminated, but at a heavy cost. One lone templar was squaring off against the ogre. The ogre was severely wounded, but managed to get one massive hand around the templar. Throwing the templar to the ground, it turned to face Lyrra, looking through its one remaining eye. It began to charge at her, but she was prepared. Lyrra enhanced one of her fire spells and launched it at the charging ogre. She hit the brute on the chest with the full magnitude of her spell. The monster fell backward onto the ground, a smoldering hole now through its chest.

The battlefield descended into an eerie silence. Her demon form receded once again, and Lyrra collapsed onto the body of a fallen mage. As she drifted out of consciousness, she could hear the pleading moan of a man in intense pain. Lyrra forced her body to move, though she could only drag herself along the soaked ground. She became ever closer to the sounds, and discovered the moans were from a male templar, who was hovering at the brink of death.

Lyrra mustered the strength to give the templar a healing touch, though it was a very weak spell. Laying beside the groaning man, she could see that he was still quite young; perhaps in his 20s like her. She gathered her remaining strength and stood. Unsteady on her feet, Lyrra began to pull the templar to a cave that the party had passed moments before the attack. It took her several tries to get the man to the cave, her exhaustion threatening to take her numerous times. She somehow willed her body to keep moving and made it to the cave. It was dark and slightly damp, but it was safe, for the moment. Lyrra lay the templar on the stone floor and began to pull off his armor.

His wounds were deep. Focusing the last drops of her strength, Lyrra forced her healing energy into his body. She could see him relax, the pain muted, for the time being, as his wounds started to decrease. She tore off a portion of her shirt and began to bind the remaining wounds on the man. Complete exhaustion took hold, and Lyrra collapsed beside the Templar.

Lyrra woke some time later; the darkness of the night fully descended outside the cave. She looked over the injured templar beside her to find that he still lived. Lyrra touched him again, forcing her life-force into his body. The smaller wounds were healed; however, the larger injuries remained. He was not losing as much blood anymore, color returning to his face. Lyrra rebound his wounds in more of her shirt and tried to make him more comfortable.

Ensuring that the templar was safe, Lyrra left the cave to find water and some food. Using her magic, Lyrra formed a large bowl from a fallen tree which she had filled with water from a small spring. She returned quickly and ate a handful of the berries she'd picked. Her patient was still asleep, and Lyrra lay down beside him to rest.

The rising sun softly illuminated the inside of the small cave, waking Lyrra. She slowly sat up and checked on the templar again. He was healing nicely, accelerated by Lyrra's magic. She was feeling much stronger now and gave him a more powerful healing. His wounds closed and stopped oozing, though his scars were still red and angry. He began to stir under her touch, and his brown eyes fluttered open. Letting his eyes focus on her, he jolted backward and winced in pain.

"Your wounds have not fully healed. Please rest easy." Lyrra spoke softly to him. "I am Lyrra." She held the bowl of water, so he may drink, but he eyed it suspiciously. "Yes, I'm going to waste my time and energy, simply so I can poison you instead. Will you just trust me?"

He eyed her again, but drank the cool water from the bowl. He laid back down on the stone floor, keeping his eyes on her as she moved about the cave. Lyrra brought the berries and fruit that she'd collected over to him, allowing him to eat if he wished.

"Why did you save me?" He finally asked her with a raspy voice.

"You were gravely injured. I had to try and save you. I didn't know if you were going to make it, to be perfectly honest." Lyrra replied quietly.

"But I'm a templar." He pressed.

"So. You are a person, are you not? Believe it or not, templar, mages are not the monsters you'd like them to be."

"But you are."

Lyrra looked at him, sadness on her face. "Yes, however, this monster still saved your life. I did not desire this path, templar. I have very little choice, if I am to remain alive."

He looked at her suspiciously for a moment, then relaxed, realizing that she could have just let him die. "So how does having a demon in one's body prolong life? I would think that it would have the opposite effect."

"I need the demon's power in order to defeat the Witch of the Wilds. I don't have the strength on my own to defeat her. I made a bargain with this spirit. I have access to her power, and she gets to walk among the mortals once again."

"Why attack the Witch while a Blight is going on? The darkspawn are spreading down from the north. Why not help us fight so we may live to see the end of the Exalted Age?"

"Do you not see? She is distracted _because_ of the Blight. Her attention is focused elsewhere, and she will not be aware of my approach. I have to kill my mother, before she kills me." Lyrra's words became heated, but she took a calming breath and began again. "Is there a name I should call you, Ser?"

"I am Ser Hugh, Lyrra." He gave her a small smile. "Thank you for saving me regardless. I know you could have run and left me there to die."

"If it helps, the destruction of that village still weights heavy on my heart. I am relieved that no one was hurt. That is my silver lining."

Ser Hugh nodded at her, but said nothing more. They picked at the food, and Lyrra left to fetch more water. She was gone for quite some time, returning to the cave obviously winded from running. She set the bowl of water and some more fruit down beside Ser Hugh.

"You are nearly completely healed." She told him. "I have done all I can for you."

He nodded through a mouthful of juicy fruit, wiping his arm across his lips. He suddenly looked out the mouth of the cave, hearing the sound of armored men approaching.

"I suspect those shall be your brothers in arms. May the Maker keep his eye on you, Ser Hugh." Lyrra stood and slowly walked to the mouth of the cave.

"I will pray for your spirit Lyrra."

"Thank you."

Lyrra turned away from him and left the cave. She stepped into the forest, hearing the templars grow ever closer. She melted into the thick mist of the wood and disappeared.

Lyrra had a Witch to destroy, or die trying.


End file.
